cristy rose hips

This bay area life...

2012-01-31T18:24:00.000-08:00

Things I haven't had in a while:

-It's so new to have weekly rituals. It's been a year and a half I'd say. Monday it's writing and my women's group; Tuesday music-making, work, then dance class; Wednesday hike, work, then happy hour with some spirit sisters; Thursday yoga/exploration day with Lisa, dinner with Jill and the flowers; Friday work then weekend adventure and studies. Everyday, too, I've been walking into the hills.

-I got a paycheck today, or rather, it got automatically put in my bank account. It felt good.

-Being in love. It feels so new to me and yet so warm and familiar.

winter 2011 - living like the one we've been waiting for...

2011-12-24T00:25:00.000-08:00

This last year has been one of constant movement, and I’velearned to trust and celebrate these changes. From babies to deaths torebirths, I know more than ever that the circle continues. It’s become evencomforting to look back at my own spirals I’ve created, recognize my agency inthe matters, and choose, simply choose in the moment to create and not react.

I began the New Year with my good old LA friends on some oldhigh rise building in downtown L.A. We were all dressed up, and it felt soritzy.

My winter intention welcomed in my shadows (forgiving myself andmoving into pain to experience greater joy). Working towards that end, I was a part of retreats on the Enneagram. Ialso took classes with incredible scholars in women’s spirituality, among them SobonfuSome, Lucia Birnbaum, Mara Keller, Luisah Teish, and Afia Walking Tree. Theseclasses – from Poetry Therapy, Rites of Passage, and Dark Madonnas – helped me continuethe healing work I began so intensely a few years ago. My moon cycle even camein line with the new moon this year, and additionally, I continued therapy at TheRelational Center, a non-profit therapy center in LA.

Indeed, my school work has been thriving as well as challenging,and when I’m up in the Bay area for classes, I love to cook for and share mealswith my friends and classmates. I have a goodly community of folk up in SF now. With them, I’ve been able to bicycleacross the Golden Gate, relax at my friend’s in the Berkeley Hills, enjoy thefun bars of the Mission, and adventure to the Muir Woods, Marin Bay, Oaklandand Kensington Hills.

I also presented a paper at the American Academy of Religionconference in Whittier, my hometown. When I’m down here in the LA area, I enjoyworking toward some local urban and suburban sustainability, catchingdepression era drink prices at the Edison or the like, and attending centeringprayer at the Center for the Working Poor. In Long Beach, too, I have my women’scommunity I meet with regularly.

In between SF and LA, I have always my dear Abundant Table farmcommunity. We just celebrated the mostwonderful holiday weekend with a tamalada, sing-a-long, and all other sorts ofmerriment.

In late spring, I participated in what came to be about a twomonth apprenticeship at Quail Spring, a permaculture farm in the sacred CuyamaValley. At QS, I developed additional land skills working with animals, vegetables,and fruit trees (like pomegranates!). I walked, camped in my friends’ borrowedtrailer, partied in cob homes, took long hikes, played so much music, madetrips to the river, meditated in my sit spot, learned how to hula hoop, andworked on the lathe. My summer intentionbecame falling in love with my able body.

In the midst of all this Earth-love, my beloved Papa passed, andthe process of grieving was intense. Itreally changed my life. Grateful for theclose moments we shared together these last few years in southern Californiaand for being able to be with him and sing with him during his last few hours,I still missed holding his hands and feeling his kiss on my cheek. Thisgrieving time makes all summer feel like a blur really.

Still, at the end of the summer and for my birthday, I traveledto Spain and the Mediterranean. I blogged a travel log while visiting ancientsites in Spain as well as Malta, Greece, Italy, and France (cristyroses.blogspot.com). An epic two-month journey if I do say somyself, I returned with an ability to let go as well as a stronger appreciationfor home, family, and chosen family. Coming back, I want to be around those I trust.

In fact, I’d say I’ve loved in a deeper way these Christmas partiesand Solstice gatherings with old friends – so intimate and beautiful. My winter intention this year is to remind mybaby girl self that “it is safe to see clearly now,” and my plan for enteringthe New Year is to witness the gorgeous mountains and deserts ofCalifornia.

On the whole, I’m grateful for a good life. My PhD coursework justended, and I’m moving up to SF to be more focused for my exams.

I continue to salsa, bachata, hula, and any other kind ofdancing, specifically with women. I missflying, but I’ve been able to sail a bit. And, hiking along the Californiacoast feels great too. I rediscovered mylove for the guitar, water-coloring vegetables and fruits, and crocheting. And,I still love my photography.

Really thankful that in all these things, I’m around so manycreative and inspiring friends (like you)!

Joy and light this season!!

Travelogue: Searching for Las Diosas de Espana (y France)

2011-10-31T01:10:00.000-07:00

"She'll find you."

Over the last two weeks, I’ve been more purposely exploring the cities and churches and caminos of Western Spain and Eastern France (around the Pyrenees). I’ve been a bit frustrated because what and who I seek has been hidden and/or forgotten, and I’ve had to look hard. I’ve had to learn and still am learning to see more clearly Her signs.

She’s there and everywhere, and as my friend Barbara reminded me, She's looking for me too.

At Lourdes

Lourdes took my breath away. “Que soy era Immaculada Conceptiou” said the Lady of Lourdes to Bernadette. Bernadette said she saw a small woman, and when Bernadette asked Her who She was, She said She was the immaculate conception. She is parthenogenisis! Bernadette had 18 visions in total, and at the site of the visions – a Cave in Lourdes, France – healing happens. I came with a strong intention to heal my/our/women’s bodies from the violence we’ve survived. As I walked into the Cathedral to see Bernadette’s relic and then into the Grotto to touch the sacred stones there, I heard “healing generations.” My traveling companion Lisa heard, “replenish the spring of your soul.” We cried and sang and washed ourselves in the miraculous spring water. I sent out all the love and healing to my family and communities, especially the women – my mothers, sisters, and daughters – and to the pain that has been caused by patriarchy, hierarchy, and domination ways of being. I paused to cleanse my body and the scars I carry in my shoulders, womb, vulva...everything.

We stopped for a local beer (canya) in St Jean de la luz (French side of the Basque country), and then headed to San Sebastian. There in the old town, I ventured into the oldest churches, one of them dedicated to the Black Madonna (o Maria Escura) Herself. All around the town too, I saw Her presence with “Mari” written on the walls, and with the Ocean everywhere, I sensed too She was near.

Mari's Island near Bermeo

Driving through Viscaya, we made our way to the mountains near the seas, the places where Mari spent some of Her time. Basque mythology (my friend Liana sent me her paper on this!) says that Mari went to these caves during certain times of the year. I've seen images of Her red hair and the moon and moonlight weaving together. It seems to me that caves and Mari go together like Persephone and the underworld, like sweatlodges and women, like wombs and birth and rebirth. As I climbed to a little church on an island in Viscaya, I felt the wind and heard the crashing waves and touched the sacred Earth. I felt the fire in me stir up (and I once again wanted to dye my hair flaming red). And, before we drove back to Bilbao, I left a prayer for clear vision, for Mari eyes.

In San Sebastian, Basilica

These places I’ve been traveling and exploring as I search for my Dark Mothers have been overwhelmingly beautiful. Sometimes, I simply feel delightful; other times, I feel the growing pains.

Travelogue: From BCN to the Pyrenees

2011-10-24T15:46:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting on the porch of this farm, listening to Beirut and Sigur Ros. The kitten is here with me, climbing the chairs, a ladder, and my legs every now and then and trying to drink my coffee I made this morning with the Italian café maker. I was dancing and stretching a bit earlier in the strong sun, which felt so nice. It’s quite cold now and Autumn is very here. The sheep and chickens and vegetables are growing nearby. And, I can hear the dogs fighting over the Spanish chorizo I snuck them. There’s something about this farm life and community that I just love. However, there’s a responsibility here in taking care of all these things that I find quite heavy. I miss the Abundant Table community and the mothering sensibility I experience with the women there.

We are here in Sils, just a bit south of Girona, on our way to Cadaques and then on the Pyrenees. We had not planned on staying so long, but it’s been a couple days here, and it’s felt good. We’ve rested a lot and feasted a lot. Combined with the music and new friends (from Denmark, HK, Spain, and Berkeley even), the time here has been refreshing for the journey. This trip has been longer than any other I’ve taken, and I’m reminded to pause in between the many adventures. Every new adventure brings with it a new sense of the word “trip.”

Yesterday, we ventured to Figueres to the see the Dali Museum. It was a labyrinthine and surreal place, of course, and I was in awe of this man and his life work. I loved that he’s Spanish, and that I have some cultural, but limited, connection with him. It’s a connection I don’t share as much with Greek or Italian culture, art, etc. While traveling in Greece and Italy, I’m doubtful that I should even be there, like my studies of their culture and whatnot isn’t really for me, like I was taught they were my history, but they really aren’t. However, in Spain, I hear the word “should,” as in I should be here studying and observing this place and these people, because they are my place and people. These are my ancestors, no? Even their jovial and playful and passionate way of being resonates with me.

I’m proud to say that we’ll be driving up to the Basque country afterall. We will go into France a bit to go around the Pyrenees and see Lourdes, and then the plan is to come back to Spain to see San Sebastian and Bilbao.

I’ve been doing some research on the Dark Mother Mari up there, and there’s a cave we will visit. I hope to find more places associated with Her, and I’m sure we will.

Travelogue: in Spain (again)

2011-10-17T09:58:00.000-07:00

Spain: I specifically chose to fly into Barcelona on my way to Malta. I carried the intention to practice my Spanish, visit Montserrat, and simply be around the people with whom I share some cultural heritage. Whether my Filipina Spanish colonized grandmother, Mexican-Spanish grandfather, or Spanish (via New Mexico) grandmother, there’s a lot of that Spanish blood in me. I tend to think of it as my colonizer side, but I also cherish it. It’s my ticket into the European story. And, I like this European story. I’ve studied the West and their cannon for most of my life. Cervantes to Picasso to Dali (all these men!), I am interested in how the Spanish live and interact with each other as well as other countries.

Before I flew to Milan and then Malta, I spent a couple days in Barcelona mostly walking around the Sagrada Familia and hanging out with my fellow hostelers. Late nights in the discotecas, siestas, working through jetlag – it was a whirlwind couple days.

Now, returning to BCN has been a different experience. My traveling companion and I couchsurfed this first week here, and because of this, we’ve experieced a pretty Catalan life with Catalan food, some Catalan and Spanish language, and just overall a homier and local feel. The wine, the beer, the lamb, the cheese with honey and walnuts, the bread and Spanish omelette have been delicious! Our couch surfing friend lives near Gracies Station and a lovely little walk to the BCN beach, which we’ve visited a couple times. Somewhere in Crete, I lost my bathing suit bottoms, but I’ve been wearing some pretty chonies (underwear) and no one seems to care here. Altogether, my traveling friend and I agree that we are beach bums, and I like to think that this trip I’ve been chasing summer.

This week too I ventured out of the city to Montserrat. This beautiful mountain and the monastery and hikes and hermitages all up in it was stunning and perfect. I did a bit of a detox and made some veg soup. I took the time as a whole like a retreat. Wandering the mountain to the Santa Cova where the Black Madonna of Montserrat was hidden and wandering into the Basilica where another Black Madonna is held, I listened to the men’s choir, meditated a bit, and considered how I could along with the many pilgrims I saw there, seek healing from the Dark Mother.

I was asked a few times if I was religious, and my response was, no, probably more heretical. I just like the Dark Mother. Her story in part just really fascinates me. Some say she is Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and some others say she is Mary Magdalene, mother of Sarah Tamar. I like thinking she’s both. Like the Virgin of Guadalupe who is also Tonantzin and the Dark Mother of the Americas, Mary of Montserrat is a mezcla and a mestiza like me!!!

A lot of my time this week, I’ve also practiced speaking a lot of Spanish with these couch surfing friends. One met me in Monsterrat and gave me a ride back to Barcelona where we made our way to the Beach again. He only spoke Spanish, and for me, it was particularly challenging. His accent and the speed in which he talked gave me a headache and made me really feel like a beginner. Nevertheless, by the end of the day, I understood more and could speak more freely. A lot of the challenge was for me giving up on this belief that I needed to completely understand. I felt like I was kind of starving or suffocating, but I realized that a better analogy is not feasting or breathing 100% oxygen. It was about letting go of the allusion that anyone and myself speaks the same language at all. I needed to let go of the old way of thinking that language and complete understanding go together.

I will say, that as my brother and mother have their birthday this mid month of October weekend, I’m beginning to desire Autumn and sweaters and warm drinks and pumpkins. I’m not sure how the Spanish do Autumn and Halloween or Dia de los Muertos, but I’m ready to paint my face and have some mulled wine.

Travelogue: Skotino Cave and Lesvos and Delphi

2011-10-12T11:04:00.000-07:00

Our last day in Crete we drove a little east of Heraklion to the Skotino cave. There we found a massive opening in the Earth that goes down four levels. There was also an altar with images of Mary, and so I added Tonantzin (the Virgin of Guadalupe). I had kept an image of her in my journal since the Women’s Spirituality Retreat at CIIS some months back. It felt fitting.

We walked down into the cave and started singing, “Ancient Mother, I hear you calling.” In the darkness, the face of a woman appeared on the formation in the middle of the cave. I imagined people of the past singing and dancing in this cave. It would have been an epic place for it.

Next day found me in Lesvos. On the ferry ride over (12 hours), I met another Thodoros, a computer scientist, and we talked at length about the addiction of virtual reality, facebook, marketing, and cia knowledge. As I slept on the floor of the ferry, my dreams dwelt on the need of privacy as well as living in the present reality all around me. Sunrise that day was on the island of Chios (a stop on the way to Lesvos), and sunset was in Molivos.

Exiting the ferry, I met Matina, a beautiful Greek woman and fellow traveler. She showed me around Mitilini (the port city) and then in Molivos (a less than 2 hour bus ride from Mitilini). We spent time lingering in the sea (Aegean), Turkey right there across the way. She also took me to the hot springs, and I felt my well-traveled body relaxing. Her friend in Molivos owns a beautiful shop in the main market area, selling Indian and natural, colorful clothes and jewelry. The center piece was a gorgeous pregnant figure, and from her window and balcony, we watched the sunset on the water. Breathtaking.

In Molivos, I stayed at the quaint Greek home of Bianca, a German tour guide of sorts living in Molivos since April. She took me to some quaint bars as well! Altogether, she was invaluable, helping me figure out where and how I wanted to go, showing me how to hitchhike (on motos and in cars!), giving me her bed, feeding me Greek breakfasts, and letting me do a tasting of her Ouzo collection.

One of my main purposes in going to Molivos and Lesvos in general was of course, Sappho. I read the fragment of her poem,“Because I prayed the words: I want” throughout my stay. I also traveled to Lesvos to meet up with my professor, Carol Christ. Carol showed me her home in Molivos, her two little dogs, a Taverna in Petra (the neighboring village), a good Aegean sea swim, and a lovely place called Octopus on the water. We spoke about my program at CIIS, the issues at the school, and the joys of our studies and lives.

Delphi: I left Molivos so satisfied, and I arrived the next day in Delphi very ready to ask the Oracle a question. I felt like the whole lot of time in Greece was leading up to Delphi, a little mini pilgrimage. And despite the fact that I prepped nearly 3 weeks for Delphi, I still needed to pause and “go down” into Athena’s temple to clarify my question. Sitting at the foot of the temple, I found myself connecting with Athena’s birth. Her mother is often missing from her story, and instead we read that she came from Zeus’ head. There is more to this story of course, and yet in this oppressive mythology, I relate to Athena. I too feel like my Mother has been missing because patriarchy replaced her with a Father that I must be reborn through. But, now I say, “No. I don’t need a rebirthing through a man or men. The womb of my mother (literal and figurative) is more than good enough. And, so, I asked Athena, “Who is (y)our mother?”

Walking from her temple to the museum (to delay my Oracle visit) to the (finally) Oracle in Apollo’s temple, I formed my question. I approached the Oracle, and asked, “How am I a mother?” The change in words was so simple but so profound for me, and the response I heard was simultaneously “You are”/ “I am.” I am my mother; you are my mother; we are mothers.

A little travelogue

2011-10-09T11:51:00.000-07:00

From Malta to Molivos, September and early October 2011
I’m learning how to really enjoy this “medi” life. Since arriving in Malta’s airport in the city of Valetta, I’ve met a lot of folk, ate a lot of food, and drank a lot of good things.

Malta:

Malta is hot, and even when it’s windy in mid-September, very humid. I could have worn my bathing suit all day and been pretty happy. But, on the flipside, Malta’s still pretty conservative and Christian. I brought a scarf for all the churches even though I would have liked to been naked.

I went with a pilgrimage of almost 40 women, mostly over 50 years of age, and we stayed in the ritzy part of Malta: St. Julian’s. Being with women my mother’s and grandmother’s age isn’t all that bad. It’s a pretty luxurious journey with healthy food in vast quantities and bus rides as close as we can get to the ancient ruins and a relaxed daily schedule that includes rest time, or naps.

I also had the benefit of feeling very young, pretty, exotic (all the women were far fairer skinned than I), and adventurous. Lucky for me, I have my tanned color from working on the farms and sunning at the beaches of So Cal. My dark color and anglo nose perhaps allow me to so fluidly switch cultures. The Maltese might of thought I was Maltese, the Italians, Italian, and the Greeks, Greek. At the same time, if they don’t realize I am from the U.S., they tend to hold me to the social codes of their country (more conservative ones perhaps) and when I don’t follow them (like wearing sleeveless dresses or dancing in the streets with the older white women of the pilgrimage), I sometimes get harsher looks than if I was white skinned. On the other side, I can often feel accepted as family, just because of my darker complexion. I don’t know why I can write so at length about this subject right now except that I think it is because I am exceptionally dark at this point in my life, and I like it.

And, I think my dark color works in my favor in the end because I want to be family wherever I go, especially outside the U.S. and predominately white culture. On the whole, I feel I’ve spent too much energy hiding my skin color in order to pass for white(r) in the world that privileges whiteness. Sadly, for too long I have also felt that I don’t pass in the family of (mixed) color. But, I am a person of mixed color, and I don’t want to be as much smart and in control of myself (emotions, body)— like I believe I was taught in the white man’s world – as I want to be passionate and embodied (dancing, healing, sensing) – like I believe is valued in the world of “color.” Therefore, like Anzaldua and many other mestizas before me, I stand here with a foot in many worlds because my ancestors come from multiple cultures, and I celebrate my mixedness, my liminality.

So, Malta. We visited “all” the temples devoted to a sacred feminine figure. These temples are the oldest structures of the world, predating Stonehenge, the stones in the Gallapogoes. Do you hear that? The oldest. I had to say it aloud when we were at one of the structures preparing for our ritual. I said to my fellow pilgrim, Grouse, “So we are at one of the oldest structures in the world, and it is in the shape of and dedicated to a Divine Feminine, to a Goddess.” That still blows my mind. From the Hypogeum to Mnjdra, we traversed the Island of Malta and Gozo to pay our respects to these ancient stones, ancestors, and Mother. Along the way, I wrote a song and shared it with everyone, singing:

Ancient Stones, Ancient Stones in the Earth

With Water on Your hips,

Fire on Your lips,

Wind upon Your cliffs,

And Your Spirit I feel on my finger tips

When I touch you.

Ancient Love, Ancient Love that is now

With Your breath upon my face

Your voice fills this place

Your body is the space

And Your arms I feel like a Mother’s embrace

When You hold me.

As I shared before, one of the most breathtaking moments for me was when we were visiting the Sleeping Lady in the Archaeological Museum in Valetta, and I heard one women whisper to another, “She looks like us.” I too felt this when I saw her and more and more when I saw the Black Madonna in Gozo. Yes, the cliffs of Gozo were impressive and swimming in the Mediterranean on the limestone of Malta was enjoyable. And, the Maltese and Gozo honey and wine were delightful. But, if you go to Malta and miss connecting with the Ancient Stones and Goddess there, I frankly think you’ve missed something miraculous.

The Greek Islands:

Flying from Malta to Athens was a bit traumatic. For one, Air Malta has a monopoly on this flight, and not only did we have to pay about 150 euro, we also had to leave the beautiful hotel in Valetta at (freakin like) 3 am in the morning. Ridiculous. And then Athens itself is such a city, and I’m really not into cities these days. We chanced upon a lovely little community of like minded folk with a woman, Maria, as their matriarch. We also did happen to arrive on a day that the new Acropolis Museum was free and then the Acropolis itself happened to be free the next two days (awesome!). However, after a day, we were ready to leave and flee to Crete, the Greek Island of the south.

The two of us landed in Heraklion after taking the overnight ferry. It was a sobering night for sure. With people strewn about everywhere and us in our eye covers and blankets trying to ignore Beverly Hill Billies and then the Greek news, the boat almost spit us out in Crete. After talking with one of the ferry workers, we headed to his friend Konstas, who lent us a car for the week. We were in a bind really. My traveling companion does not drive manual (the only car to rent in Europe it seems) and I had not brought my driver’s license. No problem, said Kostas, and a half hour later, we had our car, which we named Rebirthing Athena. That day we went to visit Knossos Palace and the Archaeological Museum in Heraklion to see the Snake Goddess (among other beauties). We slept at the home of new couchsurfing friends (wait for the very Greek names of): Yannis, Thodoros, and Odysseus.

Next day, we headed down south to Hippie town Matala. It is in this beautiful region’s caves (Neolithic, later used as Roman graves and later) where the likes of Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell played music. We went (yes yes yes! Topless!) swimming in the cove and later wandered to a bar called Hakuna Matata for local beer and food. It is there that we met Dimitrius who gave us a stunning room for the night, overlooking all of Matala. I was able to work on all that PhD work I have for this semester, and I really can’t imagine a better writing spot.

Both my traveling companion and I could have stayed a summer in Matala, but the next day we left to see Preveli, where the sea parallels and then meets the river. We left the magic of Preveli for the seaside city of Chania where we met Kalli (no not the Hindu Goddess), the amazing leo of Greece! We shared a delicious Greek meal including Squash Blossoms and Raki before heading out back through the “R town” as we call it to Heraklion. It was a homecoming to our Heraklion men for sure.

Next day, we drove out to the Skotino cave. And that I will have to write about a bit later. Ciao!

On a side note, I’ve met a lot of men, and none of it has been a great experience. Some, good. Some, bad. But none great. In Barcelona I met the Argentinian who demanded that I only dance with him. I later blocked him from my facebook account. In Milan, I met Michelle, who I couchsurfed with. He was not a romantic interest, just a place to stay with a friend, but he told me in the morning that it was hard for him to keep his hands off me. Like I needed to hear that. In Bologna, there was the guy who kept staring at me even though his girlfriend was right there beside him. In Athens, the man that would not stop staring even when we stared him down or the French man who won’t stop calling even though I told him my phone doesn’t work here or the man who took off his shirt at a party. In Crete, the man from Lesvos who kissed way too hard. See, pretty slim pickings.

The best men moments were at Delphi with the cute 70 year old guy and in Milano, when I briefly sat next to a guy who seemed worth pursuing. I’m in contact with both; we’ll see how that goes. Altogether, there’s been two men with the same birthday and a lot of men that I just find ….repulsive. And, then there’s the fact that I’m not even really here looking for men at all. They seem, looking back, like obstacles in my way. Well, Ganesha, obstacle remover, please help me by removing the disgusting men from my path or helping me choose new paths.

End of September in Crete

2011-09-26T14:37:00.000-07:00

So, I recently discovered the amazing world of Couch Surfing. In Malta, one of my fellow pilgrims was Anita, the mother of the CEO and co-founder of couchsurfing.com. When I told Anita I was couchsurfing my way through Europe, Anita told me who her son Dan was, and I was flabbergasted. For me, couchsurfing.com has been a miracle. It has been a process and celebration of trust. From Barcelona to Milan to Malta to Athens to Crete, I am time and time again reminded that there are good people out there (some of them men!!! :)) .

And, this journey of trust is precisely what I am on while on this Mediterranean adventure. It’s helping me let go of that illusion that I have control of anything but myself and that if I believe the world (including all its people) will take care of me, it will do more than that; it will give me abundance (that is, good company, good times, good love).

This journey is also about visiting precious sites and artifacts of the Sacred Feminine: in Malta, the temples and the Sleeping Lady (to start); in Athens, Athena at the the Acropolis and Delphi; in Crete today, Knossos, the labyrinth, and the Snake Goddess. And, I have done this; I have visited , and I have been in awe.

And, this journey is also about traveling with other womyn. In Malta, one of the most beautiful things I heard was when we are by the little Sleeping Lady in the archaeological museum in Valetta. I caught one womyn whisper to another, “She looks like us.” I cried when I heard this.

Traveling again around Europe

2011-09-17T12:28:00.000-07:00

Mid September finds me in Malta. I’ve actually not had much of a desire to visit Malta in my life, but a chance came up to take a tour here with a past professor and a singer I like, and I couldn’t help myself. And, I’m glad I didn’t. Malta is gorgeous, and I think I could live here. I like this island life so far, and the Maltese are friendly as well as easy going. It is, of course, quite humid, and I miss California’s big ocean waves. However, lounging on the limestone along the Mediterranean Sea is pretty wonderful. This tour too is luxurious. The hotel’s spa and pools and views are just so ritzy.

They feel perhaps ritzier than “normal” because of the last week in which I’ve been sleeping in hostels and on couches and extra mattresses. Of course, the romping around Barcelona and Milano and Italy was completely worth the showerlessness and such. I found some salsa dancing places in Barcelona and Milan, hitched a ride from a new friend on his moto, cooked on a wood stove delicious leek soup with Iris in the Italian countryside, and simply learned how to trust the goodwill of Europeans as well as my intuition.

Overall, it’s been an amazing adventure so far. I continue to be surprised by how inexpensive it is to fly from country to country. I’m also grateful for the synergistic timing of events and meetings. I barely made my train ride from Milan to Bologna. And, I arrived in Malta just in time—I mean minutes—for the first school tour gathering.

I also LOVE that Iris, a friend from Whittier and Whittier Christian no less (!), and I were able to meet up in Bologna. That was truly a miracle. She came from Romania, and I from Milan, and we just walked and ate and cooked and ENJOYED the uniqueness of our lives and the difference between Whittier and Italy.

Summer update....

2011-07-20T11:55:00.000-07:00

Well, in late Spring I started my apprenticeship at Quail Springs Permaculture Oasis in Cuyama (about an hour north of Ojai). I also made the apprenticeship count as an independent study on biogregionalism (living in and loving one place) for my PhD program. I enjoyed the Quail Springs life a lot...milking goats, herding animals, skinning rabbits, taking long hikes to watering sheds and peaks and ridges and creeks and spring sources,,,,and I also liked writing the papers on "dwelling in place." I finished the Spring semester there and earned high marks in all my classes (I had taken a poetry therapy class, drumming for peace and transformation class, black madonnas class, and womanist/feminist world view class). And then a week before I was supposed to go home (back to l.a.) my grandpa (papa) decided to stop dialysis, that is, he chose to let go, and I paused my apprenticeship to be with him in his last few hours. I sang and played a song on the guitar that he used to sing to me as a child, and he sang with me, recognized me, and I got a chance to say that he'd always be with me. It was perhaps the best case scenario of a loved one passing. I had spent so much good time with him the last 4 years or so, and I knew he loved me and that he knew I loved him. I've really felt his fire and yet "take it easy" spirit with me!

The rest of the summer up till now has been a lot of back and forth between family happenings and Quail Springs as well as the Abundant Table Farm in Oxnard with my sisterfriends. Family things can be tense and ever-fluxing (funerals, weddings, time with my mom who just finished her chemotherapy and time with my dad in his favorite pastime--movies, catching my brother when I can, planning new mexico adventures and canceling them, and moving my gram up to the bay area), and I've taken solace on "the land" as they say. In embracing my grieving, I've needed a lot of open space; the cities have been too much for me, and the Earth and trees and plants and mountains and canyons have been so calming.

Altogether, a strange summer of feeling, letting go, and really encountering my brokeness. I have this visual image of myself lying broken on the floor, future dissolving in front of me, a deep sense of missing those who are not physically around me, and yet a feeling that I am empowered and can rise up like a phoenix of sorts, choosing what pieces of on the floor are truly me and which ones I truly want to pick up. I'm wandering and wondering, and I feel this new level of freedom to just go and be and travel with what I can carry on back. I trust my family and close friends will be fine without me (of course, right??), and I also trust that they are with me in my heart as I go just as I am in their hearts. Old dreams of sailing around the world are coming up, and I feel these visions confirmed by old and new friends.

I'm up in the bay area again now, and I feel like I've been called here for an intense initiation as a woman-in touch with her ancestors- healer. Something about this area, the coast, Berkeley, Big Sur, and my school community. I have one more semester of course work, some of which will be up here in sf and some I will take online as I travel in the Mediterranean for September and October. I'm thankful to be back with my bay area allies/community and already feel myself relaxing. Oliver is with me this time, and we are staying with my good friends Jill, Peter, Lily, and Magnolia as I always do. I love staying with them.

Mourning

2011-06-20T16:16:00.000-07:00

Today was the final day of "official" mourning for Papa. We buried him at Riverside National Cemetery. Hard to imagine that five weeks back from yesterday, Papa died. Papa died on a Sunday, and it seems fitting to complete things (of sorts) on a Monday. I felt that after a Friday vigil, Saturday service, Sunday cremation, and Monday burial, that I was now ready to let go, at least, of grief for now. I am thankful for these past weeks of mourning, and now, I feel like celebrating.

At the vigil, I read a poem I wrote for Papa, and at the service I gathered the family together for a family photograph long needed. Sunday observing the cremation, I also got a chance to say goodbye one last time to his body. I was so thankful for this special time, and he looked so peaceful. As we left the funeral home, part of me wondered, "how is this natural?" but my time on the farms reminded me that his body transforming is just a part of the natural way of things. Like the trees and all living things, Papa's body makes way for new life and rebirth. I'm not saying it doesn't feel strange or sad that his body isn't with me anymore, but I find peace in my relationship with the Earth that allows me to embrace the mystery of it all.

I guess it's similar to how strange and a bit sad it feels that I never got to meet this Papa, when he was so young. I'm struck again by how it is so strange and sad that we grow up. It hurts.

Yes, I've been feeling a lot of pain and sleeping a lot. I read on a friend's facebook wall recently that in falling a part, we can pick up the pieces we want to and leave the rest. This is such a place of power I was reminded from another friend, and I've been wondering, what pieces will I choose?

In love...

2011-06-13T21:42:00.000-07:00

I've been preparing myself for Solstice next week and the full moon Wednesday. Breathing in my shadow self(welcome welcome) and my emotions, breathing out guilt and shame. Breathing in interdependency, breathing out codependency. Breathing in in-loveness with my body and the Earth, breathing out the love of just one (person, group, cause).

We held a ceremony at the Abundant Table with the sisterfriends to feast on our insecurities. We hiked the chumash trail along the pch. We accepted reality. We lived in the present moment. We let go of the ideal in our relationships. We got all messy. We danced in our vulnerability. We celebrated our community and allies. We embraced mystery. We recognized ourselves as healers. We played. We enjoyed one another.

I miss you

2011-06-02T22:18:00.000-07:00

I'm missing a lot of loved ones these days.

This is only a start: I miss you, Papa....

Ah me, Quail Springs

2011-05-27T23:31:00.000-07:00

After Papa passed, I decided it was time to just love myself, and I headed back to the land that nurtured me. I sat in my dwelling place, I held on to the Earth and friends I had grown to love, I danced, I played music, and I let go.

Quail Springs: The only constant is change

2011-05-15T01:51:00.000-07:00

A week or so since I've written on ye ole blog, and so much has changed. Life is like that, no? Slow and steady then suddenly different and perhaps a bit fast and disorderly. This movement from order to chaos seems so natural and yet so disconcerting sometimes. Perhaps even like the interchange between grief and praise, death and life? Here's some snapshots from the week:

my first piece on the lathe: a chalice

the gids visit!

learning how to hula hoop/the keaneys visit!

fotografia at the top of the watershed

It's been a week of good things and yet heart-aching things. Even now, I'm back in L.A. to be with Papa as he goes into hospice. It was terribly difficult to leave Quail Springs (left my camper behind because I'll be returning soon!). And, when I arrived today, Papa didn't seem to recognize me at first. I played him some music with our guitar, and then he saw me. He pointed at me and smiled. I started singing "Bicycle Built for Two," and he joined in!

Quail Springs: Adventuring

2011-05-06T21:16:00.000-07:00

Such a busy Friday.
This week has just flown by. Tuesday cooking and Wednesday cleaning and Thursday visioning and Friday tidying. We've made meals together, played music together, and shared our graditude for each other. I love this. I love this community.
There's even been a bit of poetry reading (Mary Oliver, may she live forever), star and planet gazing with the new moon, and today I watched one of the youngest members of the community milk goats.
But mostly it's the relationships, and hearty dialogue. I feel myself transforming.

Preparing the cinco de Mayo feast: Vic, Wyatt, Mae, and Kaiden

Jumping or Flying into the River

Con Senia

We are the music-makers: Senia, Mae, and Vic

My Vedic Chart: Thanks to Oscar

Senia and her bird

Vic and the Rattler

Quail Springs: Good Conversation(s), Good Things

2011-05-03T23:24:00.000-07:00

Making Cob (clay, sand, straw) with friends from Whittier (Iris and Erin!)

So much ...simple joy and delight here on the land these days. Friends visiting, lectures on cross-roads in Portland, conversations while gazing up at the tree branches and leaves, learning new musica, making masala chai tea, checking out Saturn's rings through the telescope, planting a pomegranate tree, and learning the midwifery of death (of a turkey).

Pictures to demonstrate the "so much":

chewing on asparagus

My new hammock by the Dianita (thanks to Mark)

Singing with Julia in the common house

Transformative Water :)

Writing in Dianita

Off-Roading (up the dry creek bed) with Mark and Wyatt

Quail Springs: Beautiful Happenings

2011-04-29T21:38:00.000-07:00

I've been settling in now to the community life. This week has been full of all matters of goodness, and I have plenty-o-fotografias to share. Last night, we had this lovely celebration of life and music, and I thought of how much I will miss these folks when I leave.

Tuesday, I ventured over to Painted Rock and to see the wildflowers.

A view from the top of painted rock, Maya below

one of the cave paintings

oh gorgeous flowers!

thistles and such

At the end of day, we all can be quite tired. Wednesday was a busy day.

Relaxing on the porch with Brenton and Vic

Thursday, visioning day, I hiked along the mountain ridge.

Quail Springs below

Poetry nights, hootenannies, dancing, stretching, walking....I'm thankful for this good life.
Friends are visiting too! More pictures to come....I'm exausted.

Quail Springs: Diving in

2011-04-24T22:13:00.000-07:00

So, tomorrow I'm doing it. I'm going to leave my blackberry turned off! And if that goes well, I'll leave it off till Wednesday! It's time. I've been procrastinating, but this weekend I felt encouraged to go for it, to trust that the world won't fall a part, that my family will be fine, that my friends won't be gone, and that I will be ok, enough, more than enough. No need to know the time. No need to check in just now with my friends who are coming to visit this month. Nope. All will be well and all manner of thing shall be well. Yes!

I think the change (which hasn't happened yet mind you! I will have to turn it off after I use it as an alarm tomorrow morning for milking the goats time!) internally happened when I dove into the Santa Barbara ocean today for an Easter baptism really. Invigorated, I called aloud "rebirth! feminine fire! transformation!"

We had spent the day Saturday in the Santa Barbara hills to hear Jan, our mentor here at QS (http://redsequin.com/) sing at Cold Springs Tavern. Quite randomly, we ended up dancing salsa (with my old salsa crew!) in Oxnard and then sleeping in a friend's home (right by Henry's beach) in SB. Then today, Sunday, we enjoyed the sun and water. I so love having the waves move my body, leaping up, spinning around, and just playing....

So much play!!!!!

So, here's my home in my little nook facing West:

Dianita!

She's so cozy, warm, and I feel protected and taken care of. I'm excited to have friends come stay or camp around.

Quail Springs: dear friends...

2011-04-23T08:48:00.000-07:00

In the mornings walking from dianita to the main house, spider webs gather on my trousers. I see them --glistening thin silver lines hanging from juniper bush to oak scrub-- there's so many I can't but help collect them. On my dark jeans, they look so pretty.

I'm coming to know the spiders, the ants, and the animals here at QS. I like checking in on the baby bunnies...

and the (two days old) baby chicks.

I like taking Honey and the other goaties for a walk on the ridge.

And just saying hello to the Mr. White Rabbit.

I've also been making friends with humans too. We went wine tasting at a neighbor's winery - Sagebrush Annie's --and were treated to many little delicious tastey sips.

These friends are challenging and encouraging me to live from the heart and body. School work is pretty much all done -- and I did well; just got the emails -- so it's time to let go. Early summer for me.

Quail Springs: Playing in the Clay Earth, Keeping the Fire

2011-04-22T08:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a few women and I played in the clay mud. We were preparing it for the cob, and we were loving it!

Senia, a young woman who lives here at QS, approached me with the clay straight from the creek bed. I asked her to put it on my cheeks and arm, and we took turns, with another apprentice, Mae, decorating each other. Then, we walked up to where some other community members are making cob fire pits for hot baths. Already there was a big tub of clay and water ready to be mixed, and I just let my fingers and arms sink in. We then started singing:
The Earth is my body
Water my blood
Air my breath
Fire my spirit

And it became a meditation. I felt this deep connection with the other women and the clay Earth. Mae, at one point, just stuck her face right in, and I laughed aloud. It seemed so audacious until Julie, another apprentice, also stuck her face and head in. Then the three children who are visiting dove in, and last, Senia and I. It was so beautiful and simple.

Today, a couple women who were mentored by a Chumash medicine woman this past weekend are keeping a fire all day and night for healing. I've enjoyed painting and reading and napping around the fire. I lounged in the hammock under the tree in the garden too. It's a visioning day, as they call it, and so, I'm seeking my vision as I read Women Who Dance with the Wolves.

Time for a bicycle ride up to the spring....

Quail Springs: Reading and Being

2011-04-20T14:38:00.000-07:00

Finally finishing up this Dark Mothers paper, and I was able to dive into some reading. I know I know -- just be! But these old habits can't just leave lickity split you know?! I read some sweet lines in Desert Solitude about loneliness replaced by loveliness as well as "this is the most beautiful place on Earth." And, from Starhawk's Earthpath, a meditation on composting what you no longer need. I guess in part I've turned to others' words this morning because I woke with such a start last night from a sad dream in which I was forgotten and deleted from a loved one's life. Or, at least, that's how I'm reading it. It seems strange really, for this to come up now, and I wonder what lesson I'm to learn. This is an oppportunity, I tell myself, to welcome my emotions and to love myself. And, although I hear Rumi whispering,

"Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instruments
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground."

I still go to the study. This morning, I read some Denise Levertov again:

"That our loyalty to one another and our loyalty to our work
not be set in false conflict...

That our love for each other, if need be,
give way to absence. And the unkown.

That we endure absence, if need be,
without losing our love for each other.
Without closing our doors to the unkown."

Here's a fotografia or two of the yesterday's adventures: compost mixing, planting seeds, scattering the compost, and then dancing on it!

Quail Springs Month: Traveling, Arriving, Enjoying

2011-04-19T14:38:00.000-07:00

On the road again... to the Cuyama Valley

...this time, I'm on the road (without Kerouac this time) with my Dianita camper mobile nook. I picked her up at the farm house (many thanks to the Lucas' for letting me borrow her!), put all my things inside, and nos fuimos! Well, kind of:

I paused for a spell with my dear sisterfriend Kat at the Oaxacan Festival in Oxnard. It was a good pause to see that the camper was working well, and after, I filled her up with gas (don't ask how much!). On the drive, I listened to oldies -- "rolling like thunder" and "magic woman" and "don't know where I'm going, but know where I came from" -- and was feeling ready for anything.

I was also flooded with memories of traveling in a similar camper with my grandparents. They had taken my sister and I across the states up from New Mexico to the Dakotas. I remember Mt. Rushmore, Crazy Horse, and so many other sites. I also remember how the soda tasted, the card games we played with Grammie laughing, and us belting out "when the saints go marching on."

Now with my camper roadtrip, I felt young and free and adventerous on my own. The fear and anxiety I had been feeling while in L.A. left me, and I had this great sense of autonomy. Safety nets transformed into webs of trust, and even when an accident closed down route 33, the delay became a party. As we waited for the road to clear, I got to know other travelers, someone even had beers! Later, when the hwy opened, I stopped with my new biker friends at a bar in the middle of nowhere en route to Quail Springs, and we played pool as I sipped a bloody mary. I hadn't planned on going to the bar really, but one of my new biker friends was waiting at the bar turn off. How could I say no to a guy on a harley waiting for me at the crossroads?

me and nettles in the kitchen and common building

Now here at QS, I'm impressed by a lot. It feels very synergistic. I arrived an hour before dusk, and I set up my little Dianita in this lovely space under some trees and at the foot the mountain. I've never had a place of my own really, and I took time to decorate, hang my beautiful things, and set up an altar of intention for my time here. After a nummy dinner with the other apprentices and community, we had a full moon dance and drum circle. I felt so welcome, and when someone brought out the lyrics to "please remember me," a favorite song of mine by Iron and Wine, I cried a bit; I just I belonged in this place with these people. I had visited QS last year, and I felt that same energy then. It was good to feel it again, to feel this confirmation inside.

Next day (yesterday), I had some great expriences, including:
milking a goat,
sheparding the goats on a walk,
almost stepping on a rattlesnake,
collecting nettles and making a soup as well as a tonic for later medicinal use,
taking a short nap that turned into a long nap,
weeding around the garlic,
dancing in the wind,
and ......working on my dark mothers paper I haven't finished yet!

Today I've set the intention to write some more, both this blog and the paper, and I've also brought out Papa's guitar and am learning and sharing with friends songs of the past as well as of here and now.

My dream the first night was of a childhood friend (Adam Wolven, who represents for me a very "go explore" point of view and who I traveled with to Baja) telling me to "Go! Explore!" and last night I dreamt I was writing family and friends from Africa (which I've never been to but think represents newness, wildness).

And this is my mantra up here: to be wild, to be free, to be innocent, to trust my intuition, to love the moon, to love my body, and to just celebrate my whole self and the Earth in this dwelling place.

Countdown to Permaculture Community for a Month

2011-04-13T17:11:00.000-07:00

So, I have this new truth springing up within me. Perhaps it's not new really, but I'm starting to be able to speak it. Here it is: I can't imagine really living that grown-up life with house, family, 9 to 5, the nuclear family, and now I'm pretty sure I don't have to at all. This morning I woke up from a dream saying this mantra: "Why would I ever go back?" Now, I'm not just talking about escaping abusive relationships, which I really think are so prevalent in our world; I'm speaking about escaping the traditional home altogether. Of course, I don't think this necessarily means I must be liberated from having children, but as far as I can tell so far, children are a "package deal" and the package (hehe) is not what I'm looking for...not at all.

And, I'm moving to a commune to try it out. www.quailsprings.org. Who knows if I will be able to handle it. I certainly like the city life in part with the varied happenings, the many diverse people, and the excitement. I have four days before living on the land, and I'm just rolling in the fb world, internet life, bar and night life, l.a. life, go go go life. Four days to go, and I'm nervously eating it all up. It's my gluttonous side, and mardi gras is this weekend. Watch out.

But, I'm still looking forward to going as well. I'm starting a new journal, preparing for the rehab detox of country living, and looking forward to the transformation burgeoning in me.

This liminality (I love this word) feels like this perhaps because I am in love with song so much these days:

things I love

2011-03-18T16:07:00.000-07:00

Gracias to Hanna for this idea. It's all blustery and rainy outside. I'm supposed to be writing a paper on sound therapy; I was supposed to go into the city for an advising meeting, and I thought I had class tonight. But no. I don't, and I didn't go, and here I am in Berkeley on my little bed with my cold little feet and little Magnolia on my lap. I've finished skimming the blogs of friends and family, I know what's up in the world of facebook. I also asked friends to comment on their a memory with me, and after reading the responses, I'm just all nostalgic. I need a pick me upper. So, here's my list of things I love:

-- the color red (my friend Susan says true red is the color of Cristy and tomato red is the color of Rose)
-- a good sleep (i sleep so well here at *Jill's)
-- my chosen, extended family
-- books, old books, pop-up books, book cases, book shelves, book ladders, book smells, book stores...and librarians too
-- traveling (anywhere but the burbs)
-- new things (experiences, places, classes, senses, etc.)
-- dancing (salsa to 80s to?)
-- summertime (sandals and bathing suit and sundress and sunhat and sun and ....beer?)
-- bicycling along the coast
-- waking up to Oliver (it feels like a mini christmas. i always hear his tail wagging first, then he lounges over to me and stretches)
-- hiking to somewhere you can only get by foot
-- cuddling
-- kissing
-- holding hands...
-- swinging (swingset, tree swing, porch swing....)
-- flying (up and down the ventura county coast)
-- tea time
-- cottages
-- pueblo style homes
-- roof tops

-- beverages (red wine to mimosas to orange julius to olvaltine)
-- conversation (pillow talk so says the farm womyn)
-- planetariums
-- lawns (and i feel bad about it ok)
-- i love it when we're cruisin together
-- women/womyn gathering
-- estate sales
-- androgyny
-- dressing up (like for themed parties, for work, halloween....)
-- pomegranates
-- papayas
-- pendulums
-- spirals
-- labyrinths
-- Earth

okay, i love a lot. at least this is a start...

we are the music-makers...

2011-03-14T14:15:00.000-07:00

so much music in my life these days....

attended a class on drumming and sound therapy and ....a "listening" party" this past weekend

Embracing Our Feminine Fire with Sobonfu Some

2011-03-04T15:22:00.000-08:00

Took a class this past weekend with Sobonfu. Releasing, Cleansing, Embracing.....her presence and words and ritual have helped rebirth me. In writing the paper for this weekend class, I'm reading her Falling Out of Grace. She writes:

“I have found in my work, for example, that where a certain, narrow kind of Christianity has been instilled, people accept that they have been born evil. This view infiltrates the way people look at each other. ‘We are basically evil.’ The battle against our nature never ends. This belief automatically limits a person’s abilities to come back into grace. It’s as if one’s wings have been clipped before she can fly."

So true I think.

things of old

2011-02-23T14:50:00.000-08:00

Been writing and talking a lot about the things that I used to like in high school that may not have been so healthy for me; in fact, they are downright disturbing and my love of them makes me wonder. Here's some I've been thinking about:
Christina's World by Wyeth,

Donne's "Batter My Heart,"

Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, you

As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee,'and bend
Your force, to breake, blow, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to'another due,
Labour to'admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearley'I love you,'and would be loved faine,
But am betroth'd unto your enemie:
Divorce mee,'untie, or breake that knot againe,
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you'enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.

And this here book too.

writing poems in late Winter

2011-02-22T13:07:00.000-08:00

I've been writing poetry a lot lately. I took a Poetry Therapy class, and I guess I've been inspired. It almost feels like when I'm writing a poem I am taking a picture of my emotions and keeping them for remembrances.

a remembrance

My friend Judy is putting together a collection of words for peace. I gave her this.

My first memory is holding hands across America.

I'm five I think. It's sunny and the light is in my eyes.
My grammie is on my left, an old man stranger on my right,
and my abuelito nearby.
I'm smiling up at my gram and the happy faces around me
That are singing, "We are the world" and
Asking for peace.

And, still today, I know
This is what peace is like.
It is a coming together.

Peace is singing around the campfire,
holding someone in love,
a kiss upon the cheek,
a tear wiped away, and
a mother rocking her child.

Peace is believing and trusting.
It is a head laying on a shoulder,
pushing a friend on the swing,
giving your sister the last piece,
and holding hands across the world.

Health Insurance Drama

2011-02-17T16:53:00.000-08:00

So, I had a pap smear in December 2009, and my health insurance, Summit America Insurance, said it was fully covered as did the doctor, Dr. Jody Balloch, in Camarillo, Ca. Both, of course, I highly do not recommend working with because for the first time, I'm really feeling the hopelessness of our medical world and health coverage. I feel pushed around and powerless. The insurance and medical language is so foreign to begin with, but it seems that the doctor's office, or their billing company, speaks a different language from the insurance company, and I'm having to translate! It's so frustrating when people don't handle their responsibilites, and say, "I'm sorry; I wish I could help you, but I can't."

Yes, it would be so much easier to just pay the bill. I've already had another papsmear since 2009 (thank you planned parenthood!). However, it's now become a matter of justice. Finally, my "don't mess with me" side is waking up, and I've spoken with a lawyer even (ok, a friend who is a lawyer), and this injustice will not stand I tell you! This is for all the folks who have no voice, who are being charged for things far more expensive (and more perhaps "private") when the insurance companies should be covering them!

What's perhaps even more sad is that this insurance is for volunteer religious workers. It was my coverage on the non-profit farm! I've never been one of those to stand and be arrested for a cause, but I tell you, I'm working up that way fast.

And, in case you didn't know, dear reader. This is a pap smear (though the those in Australia may call it a pappy):

A little aside: oddly enough, my friend Scott Lehman is publishing an article on distorted maps of Havana shaped to look like female reproductive anatomy just ready to be conquered.

missing oliver already

2011-01-31T12:21:00.000-08:00

Painting vegetables

2011-01-28T10:15:00.000-08:00

I have this new hobby -- painting vegetables and fruit. Here's a few of the recent beauties.

rainbow chard

radishes

still life with pear and other fruit

a case of the madeleines...

2011-01-27T11:55:00.000-08:00

Mel told me about how Proust writes about this...."episode of the madeleine" this morning. I was making "detox" yogi tea, and told Mel it reminded me of my semester in Washington DC over ten years ago. I drank this particular tea almost everyday then. Memories flashed back involuntarily of running the "mall" to Lincoln Memorial and back to our little apartment near this bookstore where I bought the complete works of Oscar Wilde. I remember feeling very determined as well as very out of place. I kept thinking, as I was in these political meetings and conversations, "I get all the news I need on the weather report." Quoting Simon and Garfunkel certainly wasn't the best way to mesh with DC society, and so I floundered a lot.

On the Washington Mall with
Margot, a teacher who gave me "The Art of Kissing,"
Bethany the Writer,
a friend who introduced me to Ethiopian Food in Adams Morgan,
and Melody, who I liked a lot.

Anyways, I love madeleines, I love the name madeleine (and madison. The two names of my car.), and I'm thankful for this morning's episode.

An update newsletter

2011-01-25T21:09:00.000-08:00

I recently heard that I should have sent out a little holiday update, so I came up with this Chinese New Year newsletter.

Dear Friends,

With the coming new year of the rabbit Wednesday, I decided it was time to write a little review of my life and send it out my amigas. I hear 2011 will be a year of stronger and more intimate relationships for me as a sheep (in the Chinese zodiac). Already, in the past few years, my relationships have been more trusting and nurturing. I’m incredibly grateful for my friends, allies, sisters, and family, and here’s my brief sum up of mid 2009 to now:

Let’s see – In late summer 2009, my dog Oliver and I moved out of Highland Park (LA), took time to travel in New Mexico and Baja, and then moved into an organic vegetable farm in Ventura County (VC). At the same time, I decided to take a break from teaching English at CSU, Long Beach and began my studies in Women’s Spirituality at the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Fran.

Winter at the Farm with Oliver

It was a big move, but the year at the farm helped me integrate my academic or heady studies into my heart and body. I lived “intentionally” with four amazing women, and together we worked with the Earth to develop a community focused on sustainability and integrity.

My studies let me explore so many interesting subjects including women’s ways of “knowing” as well as my mestiza and pinay (Filipina) roots. In my spare time, I took flight lessons (a life goal of mine), studied native plants, connected with other labyrinth loving women in VC, became a part of the art and sweat lodge culture around the farm, and joined a hula dancing group led by some fellow salseras.

Our Farm (and me) in the Ventura County Star

Although we as a farm community ventured out of the area a few times (up to Yosemite, out to Ojai, and down to LA), I spent most of the year settled in at the farm house. Thankfully, so many friends (from Berkeley to Switzerland) came to visit and joined in with our farm life (and farm parties!).

As summer 2010 approached, I decided to dive more into my PhD adventure and leave our community. The farm had been such a stable place, and I knew the transition would be challenging and that I would miss my sisterfriends at the farm.

Nevertheless, this past Autumn has been full of “good things” as I travel between the Bay area for school and the L.A. area for family. Both my grandfather and mother have been sick, and although this has been difficult, there have also been some beautiful moments. Also, I’m pleased to announce that I continue to enjoy my studies, and I will be presenting a paper on “Mestiza Spirituality and Embodied Restlessness” at the American Academy of Religion Conference in Whittier (my hometown!) in March.

In between family and school time, I continue to dance salsa and I’ve taken up danza Azteca and other rich forms of dancing with my friends. I’ve also had the honor to share stories and live with a few old friends in the Bay and LA area I hadn’t seen in a long while (some for 8 years or so!).

Next week, I’m traveling North again to work on my PhD. I will stop at the farm, and then I will be in SF taking a new semester of classes. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to be what I love: a traveler, a learner, and hopefully, a healer.

Reflecting on all of my life adventures thus far (I’m thinking of undergrad, Europe, Asia, and Oz too) is such a gift with endearing friends like you! Thank you for being a reflection, an adviser, a mentor, and a part of my chosen (extended) familia.

Oliver and I send you love, joy, and transformation this coming year! - Cristy Rose

Fermentation

2011-01-23T21:16:00.000-08:00

I've been making water kefir. A friend gave me a starter in Oakland a month or so ago, and ta da!

also found this cool blog that describes the goodness of water kefir.....
http://enzymo.wordpress.com/
They write:
Water Kefir Grains, also known as Sugar Kefir Grains, Tibicos, Tibi, Japanese Water Crystals, Ginger Beer Plant or California Bees, are a culture of bacteria and yeast held in a polysaccharide matrix created by the bacteria. The microbes present in Water Kefir Grains exist in a symbiotic relationship thus maintaining an incredibly stable culture. The friendly microbes feed off the sugar in the sugar water solution, producing lactic acid, alcohol (ethanol), and carbon dioxide gas which carbonates the drink.Water kefir is a fantastic non-dairy alternative to milk kefir with PROBIOTICS and ENZYMES !!

burlesque in my 30s

2011-01-21T14:21:00.000-08:00

took my first burlesque class finally. i've been talking

about it for a while. it seems like a healthy hobby for my 30s.

the website told me to bring heels (i brought my salsa shoes pictured above),

comfy clothes, lipstick, and attitude.

i'm hoping to convince some womyn to come out with me because it was

such a liberating and fun time.

a creatrix, a wall, a room of my own

2011-01-12T22:36:00.000-08:00

My mom's been sick lately...

2011-01-12T10:22:00.000-08:00

My mom's been sick, and I recently thought through the things I like or I will miss when she passes:

Your cooking…breakfast in the morning eggs or pancakes or oatmeal.

Your laugh…big, uncontrollable.

Your love of old movies and movies we watched as kids…arsenic and old lace, home alone, etc.

Your creativity…the art supplies packed up in the garage that indicate art can be created anytime.

Your love for Oliver…your grandpuppy.

Laying in bed with you watching tv.

Your magazines…Martha, better homes…

Your garden

Your search for a cultural identity you can be proud of.

Your visits to the places and cities and countries I was living in…

That's my mom on the left

Trying to remember who i am....

2011-01-11T11:50:00.000-08:00

It's a start.

I am los angeles.

I am frosted flakes in the morning.

I am he-man and she-ra

I am rainbow bright.

I am Disneyland.

I am the mall down the street.

I am the starbucks on every corner when I need it.
I am family arguments on Sunday morning.

I am chubby little Filipina Spanish something girl.

I am anorexic for God.

I am mom, come out of your room.

I am husband, don’t jump.

I am dad, don’t tell me what to do.

I am homecoming court.

I am straight A student.

I am creatrix.
I am dance.

I am red.

I am anger and vulnerability.

I am fierce and shameless.

Art for a friend

2011-01-08T08:14:00.000-08:00

I've been enjoying the creative process and found this artwork quite cathartic.

Blessings

2011-01-06T12:17:00.000-08:00

I take my grandparents to mass. But, I’m not Catholic, so I can’t receive communion. I was baptized as a baby, but never made those first and holy communions, so this means I’m excluded from the body and blood. However, I can go up to the front and receive a blessing. And, I like this...alot.

Usually, it’s from a lay woman like myself, and I like that too. I like that they are women. Some will say, “Blessings on you,” and some pause not knowing what to say; I think they must not get folks wanting blessings often.

Nevertheless, I love it. It seems so real to me. A stranger’s hand on my forehead, her words spoken to the world as an offering of what might come my way, and me eager to receive.

Here’s how it goes. As I approach the front, I cross my arms over my chest. This cues the giver to put away the wafer and to extend her hand out to me directly. I bow my head slightly to make my forehead more accessible, and that’s that. The music’s playing, the people are shuffling, and I’m waiting to hear the words I’m meant to receive. After the blessings, I pass by the wine too and make my way to my seat.

I think I will start collecting and recording the blessings!

Womanifesto

2011-01-04T19:31:00.000-08:00

for 2011

Self-love and forgiveness. Regardless. Dance. Dancing. Community. Trust and intimacy. Welcome shadow self both angry and vulnerable. No and yes. Creatrix. Art. True and real. Seeking nurturing. Leaving drama. Transforming. Recognizing moments. Letting go. All is well. It is safe for me to be myself. I love myself.

Oliver's Travels in the Year 2010

2010-12-26T16:03:00.000-08:00

At the farm...

In the family room at the farm

for christmas 2009, the fam came to visit us!

Sarah B and O in the morning

With the visiting friends on the swing

taking a break as walk the land with Denise

getting ready in the morning for the farm work

sleepover in Erynn's bed

dia de los muertos and the jumpy house

backyard sunset

driveway to the farmhouse

around ventura county....

getting ready to fly

hiking around with friends in Santa Paula

beach day with the farm friends

around l.a. with friends...

with grace

with bella

with beloved peanut

and all kinds of silliness...

time to brush his teeth

we've come so far; it feels so real

2010-12-15T13:50:00.001-08:00

a bit early, i know

2010-12-08T16:51:00.000-08:00

i've been listening to rufus sing this all day

this year's christmas song....

2010-12-06T17:32:00.000-08:00

a thing called a phd; the moon within

2010-11-30T22:05:00.000-08:00

geezzz....this phd thing is something. every program out there will be different of course, but mine in particular is a doozy. the goal? integration. does that seem like no big deal? well, not for me.

my head has been in control or at least thinking it's in control for far too long. it's like i'm saying: hey heart! hey body! let's get together. and my classes and teachers and classmates are part of the process.

classrooms in the woods, papers on my motherline, soul journeys....don't get me wrong; i am thankful.

but, it's just so painful.

Autumn Travels in the Bay Area

2010-11-09T21:20:00.000-08:00

fotografia of me and one of my favorite buildings near Chinatown by Carolina
(who I met in Guanajuato no less)

I travel for school these days. I explore. I romp around the streets of San Fran, Berkeley, Oakland, Alameda, and thensome.

Vesuvio Bar next to City Lights Books

I visit the old literary haunts.

Half Moon Bay

I go on adventures with friends to places I've been meaning to go to for so long.

A class picture

I enjoy the company of my classmates.

Dia de los Muertos, The Mission

Overall, this gypsy life style is intense. I wonder if I'm too old for it, too old for the sleep overs at friends, too old for carrying everything on my back, and too old for new explorations. Then I wonder if it's just a "this American life" dream that makes me feel so tired. Then I wonder if part of me just lingers behind with my grandpa. Last, I wonder if I just need some sleep at the end of so much romping about.

I love you or I do not live at all.

2010-10-19T19:55:00.000-07:00

I've been in the hospital with my grandfather, and I'm learning something new. Life and Death are so close together -- like twins -- that in a moment death might come and in a moment life might return. I'm finding it frustrating, almost like teasing, but I'm sensing that it is just one of those natural elements of life, like waves or cycles or spirals causing this flux of death and rebirth on many levels.

I've been with three people when they've died, including my 35 year old cousin who died suddenly and my Great Aunt who chose to die on her 100th birthday. There's always a bit of trauma, and I've spent these past years surviving by trying not to feel the emotions so that I wouldn't get caught up in the drama. Realistically, I think I've also numbed myself in other potentially traumatic situations as well. My heart has been protected, but it's so hard for me to face the realities life that really deserve anger and sadness.

Lately, I've also been wondering if I'm really missing out, and I've been creating space in my daily interactions for my true anger and sadness, space for vulnerability.

However, this flux between life and death has me on edge. I think it's because I don't feel ready for death. I don't like the idea of my Grandfather dying. I don't want him to die. But, that's not healthy at all. I must learn to let-go. It's a big lesson and perhaps a great one for me because I'm a virgo and like control and safety. Death just doesn't seem safe at all. Either a big adventure like Peter Pan says or a nothingness, the mystery of death scares me. I was scared so much yesterday I called out to what seemed like everyone in my phone book in a moment of desperation to ask for prayers and such.

And this liminal place in between life and death, where my Papa is now, is so tense. I must trust. I must believe. I must trust in the cycles that bring about rebirth again and again and again. And, I believe in the power of relationships and remembrance. And, I must allow myself to feel within this aura of trust.

Talk about emotions has led me to poetry again, to William Carlos Williams recently and his line about loving or not living at all, and now to Jorge Luis Borges and his "Instantes." Thanks to Pablo for introducing me to this lovely poem.

If I were able to live my life anew,

In the next I would try to commit more errors.
I would not try to be so perfect, I would relax more.
I would be more foolish than I've been,
In fact, I would take few things seriously.

I would be less hygienic.
I would run more risks,
take more vacations,
contemplate more sunsets,
climb more mountains, swim more rivers.
I would go to more places where I've never been,
I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans,
I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.

I was one of those people that lived sensibly
and prolifically each minute of his life;
Of course I had moments of happiness.
If I could go back I would try
to have only good moments.

Because if you didn't know, of that is life made:
only of moments; Don't lose the now.

I was one of those that never
went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot-water bottle,
an umbrella, and a parachute;
If I could live again, I would travel lighter.

If I could live again,
I would begin to walk barefoot from the beginning of spring
and I would continue barefoot until autumn ends.
I would take more cart rides,
contemplate more dawns,
and play with more children,
If I had another life ahead of me.

But already you see, I am 85,
and I know that I am dying.

a new song i like (a lot)

2010-10-12T17:10:00.000-07:00

photographs of me in places I love

2010-10-08T09:46:00.000-07:00

I'm applying for an internship in Taos, and in the application, they ask for photos in places I love. I found it so challenging to just choose one of course, so I'm putting the others here. And, to think, these are only just a few. How will I ever settle down somewhere? I wonder, at times, if I'm meant for that gypsy life style. I confess here and now that it might be so.

The Ranch, Golondrinas, NM

Bahia de Los Angeles, Baja

Tinkertown, Sandia Park, NM

Our Farm

raymond carver autumn mornings

2010-10-05T15:12:00.000-07:00

‎"Then to wake up to rain striking the glass.
Flowers in a vase near the window.
The smell of coffee, and you touching your hair
with a gesture like someone who has been gone for years....

Do me a favor this morning. Draw the curtain and come
back to bed.
...Forget the coffee. We'll pretend
we're in a foreign country, and in love."

I'm reminded of the Weepies song about how we look like two lovers in a painting by Chagall as well as my visit to the Zurich Cathedral with Chagall's stain glass work.

I'm also reminded of this poem I wrote a while back...when I was in an ocd kind of love.

In between

I'm looking in the bed sheets for you.
Diving under the covers,
I read once more the symbols on your face and body.
- I breathe you in like old books. I bury my face in you.

My hand, sliding between the top and bottom pages of linen, isn't aimless.
The smooth fabric, the labyrinthine folds –
I feel the edges of you and turn the page.

Pull the yellow bed clothes over us, and
Our world is gold and full of shadows.
Lean in and whisper.

Let's build our tent of sheets again.
You hold that corner, and I'll hold mine.
We wedge the top sheet in the wall-headboard groove,
And we've made a shelter.
It falls down, and
I cover you with me.

And we are the sheets now,
Laying one on top of the other.
We are –
the words are all over our bodies –
the (choose your own adventure) story called
Our love.

everything depends on how near you sleep to me

2010-09-29T09:33:00.000-07:00

postcolonial

2010-09-21T17:01:00.000-07:00

"Having gone through a lengthy period of colonial education, I am interested in exploring the steps necessary for a postcolonial intellectual to dislodge herself from habitual ways of thinking, established forms of inquiry, and the reward system vigilantly guarded by the neoliberal academy. By documenting my critical engagement with postcolonial thought, I hope to create a little more space to imagine that an alternative world and a different system of knowing are possible" - Kwok Pui-lan, Postcolonial Imagination and Feminist Theology

In my thirties...

2010-09-13T17:18:00.000-07:00

So far, my thirties have been joyful and fulfilling. Travels with friends and studies in women's spirituality is precisely where I want to be.

Tahoe with my other thirty somethings

a women's spirituality class

In my thirties, I want to develop trust and intimacy.

Things I've lost in the fire

2010-09-07T14:18:00.000-07:00

1. New Mexico poncho (Tan and burnt orange with tassels) I loved
2. Simon and Garfunkel Record (Wednesday Morning 3am) I loved

Autumn is near....

2010-08-26T12:40:00.000-07:00

School begins. I need a computer. I procrastinate from writing, by redesigning my blog. I read friends' blogs. I post on their blogs.

I think of the past. I am in the past. I think of the future. I am in the future.

I want to be present.

thanks for this emily

selling goods on craigs list

2010-07-15T13:54:00.001-07:00

I started last week. A desk, a dresser, a lamp, and a record player. It's fun. There's a strange sense of money-making in my spirit. I want to sell more things now and wonder what I can do without.

Thursday morning back in Oz listening to India Arie

2010-07-08T10:00:00.000-07:00

I spend my days with my loved ones. We eat at my favorite places like La Cantarita in old town Placentia and Esther's Taco House! We shuffle about the old shopping places (such comforting moments following my motherline around the store!). We work out at the gym (thanks to my brother!). We bicycle around town. We dance at the Continental Room in old town Fullerton. We meditate together. We romp about Glendale together. And, we listen to inspiring music, like:

And, yet, this Thursday morning finds me back in ole Oxnard to practice hula, walk along the beach, and enjoy the good company of amigas here. B

Saturday morning in l.a. with jose gonsalez

2010-07-03T11:37:00.000-07:00

i like how this is a kylie mynogue cover. i like this song. i like being back in l.a. at mel and josh's. I like being back on my blog and having time for that. Facebook has been fun and easy in the mean time as I can upload fotografias directly, but it doesn't compare to my little nook called "cristy rose hips." Glad to be back "home."

End of the beginning: the farm life

2010-06-24T10:52:00.000-07:00

beginning thoughts on death and rebirth this year on the farm

With a week left at the Oxnard farm, I'm needing to write down some thoughts and feelings and such. I've already begun the letting go process; I began perhaps a month ago after taking my one week off from the farm to visit a dear friend in San Francisco.

Coming back from Sf, it was very clear to me that I had one solid month left with my sisterfriends, family at the Abundant Table Farm Project, and larger community in Ventura County. So, I began to record the bits I would miss from this year as an intern/farmer/farm worker. On facebook, I'd post a picture along with "I will miss...." like:

I will miss playing guitar in the morning in the big room with Oliver

I will miss driving down Hueneme Road

I will miss living so close to the ocean

I will miss my farm harvesting outfits

A new non-profit, of course, has it's challenges. And, there are some things I certainly will not miss. Working and living at the same place is a recipe for chaos, and I've had to be really clear about my boundaries and what is rest and what is not even when the work is a gift and a joy!

Working at the market

Retreats at the farm

Early morning in the fields!

ATFP parties at the house

Dinners in the big kitchen

Having friends visit the farm has been another great honor as well.

Living in community itself is challenging and yet rewarding. It's a marriage/relationship really as far as I see it.

And, overall, there's my relationship with the Earth:

new discovery: kate wolf

2010-04-19T12:48:00.001-07:00

My brilliant career

2010-04-09T12:16:00.000-07:00

Poetry of Diane Wyman

2010-03-02T11:03:00.000-08:00

http://www.poetryofdianewyman.com/

She came to visit me at the farm yesterday, and my heart went boom.

passion

2010-03-02T08:42:00.001-08:00

Girl with Pen!: The Man Files

2010-03-02T08:27:00.000-08:00

I'm thankful for Shira Tarrant and especially for this article. As she states, "Finally, splashed across the corporate page of a mainstream publication, gender is no longer code for women!"

http://girlwpen.com/?p=1845

THE MAN FILES: The Hurt Locker Blows Up More Than Bombs

Posted by Shira Tarrant on Mar 1st, 2010

2010

Mar 1

Sunday, February 28, 2010. I wake up, brew a pot of coffee, and sit down to read the Los Angeles Times. Then my world shifts ever so slightly.

On the front page of the Calendar section I see the headline, “Redeploying Gender.” Jumping off the page this time around, the gender in question is masculinity. Finally, splashed across the corporate page of a mainstream publication, gender is no longer code for women! I read this and it feels damn good.

The article in question is about film director Kathryn Bigelow’s war movie and Oscar-award front-runner, The Hurt Locker. More than just a blow-’em-up extravaganza, journalist Reed Johnson suggests that Bigelow’s film “shakes up traditional ideas of what men are and how they act.” Bigelow likes the big bang in her movies — guns, explosions, a rough-punch to the gut. And in The Hurt Locker, there’s plenty of that rugged, isolated individualism that so often defines modern manhood. But Bigelow is more deeply interested in the warrior codes of masculinity that are intertwined with men’s fears and feelings, and their conflicted impulses around loyalty and leadership, posturing and parenthood.

“Kathryn,” I want to say out loud (as if she were in my living room), “So am I!” And so are other writers thinking deeply about masculinity, like Jackson Katz, Judith “Jack” Halberstam, and Sinclair Sexsmith, just to check a few in the genre.

My caffeinated heart beats a bit faster with excitement and I continue reading the Times …

The article is quick to note that Kathryn Bigelow’s perspectives on masculinity should not be labeled feminist — and even quicker to comment that a feminist label can be a death knell for women working in Hollywood. But as my eyes skip to the right-side of the page, I see film critic Betsy Sharkey has also invoked the F-word in a companion article, this time in reference to director James Cameron’s exploration of “what women want, how they define themselves,” and — to me, a key point — “how society values [women's] worth.” It’s troubling that while Bigelow (and other women) face professional risk for getting labeled a feminist, Cameron stands to benefit. It’s a jarring juxtaposition.

But, this problem notwithstanding …

Johnson counterposes that Cameron and Bigelow’s “partially intertwined careers suggest a growing fluidity and flexibility in how gender perspectives function in film.” [The italics are my added enthusiasm.]

Did I just see this right? This beautifully written, politically trenchant, gender-astute sentence … on the pages of the Sunday Times? With write-ups like this and more projects on the horizon (Michael Kimmel’s popular book Guyland is optioned by Dreamworks), the day is looking even brighter here in sunny SoCal.

Still, there’s a ways to go in cracking the celluloid ceiling.

As Jane Fonda comments on Huffington Post, there are great moments in film this year, thanks to women in Hollywood. Five years ago, Fonda, with Gloria Steinem and Robin Morgan, founded the Women’s Media Center to keep pointing out that “women are not only assets but requirements for a truly democratic media, and for strong, innovative entertainment.” We need to improve the numbers of women and people of color among the Hollywood players. But it helps that directors like Bigelow are shifting images of gender and masculinity in our everyday movie faves. This, too, is an important step toward gender justice.

Oh, and postscript. Thanks to Reed Johnson, I have a clever new phrase that I plan to use in a sentence today: Stealth Feminist. Brill!

heard samuel coleridge taylor arrangements on the radio

2010-03-01T08:27:00.000-08:00

heart of....

2010-02-19T18:40:00.001-08:00

Manic Pixie Dream Girls

2010-02-17T08:27:00.000-08:00

A friend (Rob), and I had a gmail chat convo the other day that went something like this:

10:56 AM me: they are wasting my time

10:58 AM Robert: how does your time get wasted? you get involved with someone and then they want something more "traditionally" solid and you dont

me: yep

Robert: are you familiar with the term "manic pixie dream girl"

me: what?!

11:00 AM Robert: its term that a film critic came up with to describe a character trend in movies

11:01 AM that bubbly cinematic creature that exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventure

11:02 AM me: clementine?

Robert: yup

or gardenstate

me: totally.

Robert: or elizabethtown

or 500 days of summer

me: wow. is that me? or is that what these men project on to me?

11:03 AM Robert: the latter

11:04 AM me: TOTALLY

Robert: bc these arent fully formed characters

they are simply an ideal

me: yep. YES!

funny enough. they are heart-breakers

11:06 AM Robert: well lets compare you to 500 days of summer

was that charccter really a heartbreaker

bc she was upfront about not wanting anything serious

me: oh my bad. they aren't heart breakers the men just make them so

Robert: but he thought, what we all thought

me: yes

Robert: ill change her mind

Robert: she will fall in love with me and change her mind

Here's the link he sent:

Wild things: 16 films featuring Manic Pixie Dream Girls

http://www.avclub.com/articles/wild-things-16-films-featuring-manic-pixie-dream-g,2407/

Thanks, Starhawk, for this:

2010-02-15T19:33:00.001-08:00

Blessing for Earth-Healers

We give thanks for all those who are moved, in their lives, to heal and protect the earth, in small ways and in large. Blessings on the composters, the gardeners, the breeders of worms and mushrooms, the soil-builders, those who cleanse the waters and purify the air, all those who clean up the messes others have made. Blessings on those who defend trees and who plant trees, who guard the forests and who renew the forests. Blessings on those who learn to heal the grasslands and renew the streams, on those who prevent erosion, who restore the salmon and the fisheries, who guard the healing herbs and who know the lore of the wild plants. Blessings on those who heal the cities and bring them alive again with excitement and creativity and love. Gratitude and blessings to all who stand against greed, who risk themselves, to those who have bled and been wounded, and to those who have given their lives in service of the earth.

May all the healers of the earth find their own healing. May they be fueled by passionate love for the earth. May they know their fear but not be stopped by fear. May they feel their anger and yet not be ruled by rage. May they honor their grief but not be paralyzed by sorrow. May they transform fear, rage, and grief into compassion and the inspiration to act in service of what they love. May they find the help, the resources, the courage, the luck, the strength, the love, the health, the joy that they need to do the work. May they be in the right place, at the right time, in the right way. May they bring alive a great awakening, open a listening ear to hear the earth's voice, transform imbalance to balance, hate and greed to love. Blessed be the healers of the earth.

From "The Earth Path: Grounding Your Spirit in the Rhythms of Nature"

by Starhawk http://www.starhawk.org/

something i like

2010-02-14T15:07:00.001-08:00

WOMANIST
1. From womanish. (Opp. of "girlish," i.e. frivolous, irresponsible, not serious.) A black feminist or feminist of color. From the black folk expression of mothers to female children, "you acting womanish," i.e., like a woman. Usually referring to outrageous, audacious, courageous or willful behavior. Wanting to know more and in greater depth than is considered "good" for one. Interested in grown up doings. Acting grown up. Being grown up. Interchangeable with another black folk expression: "You trying to be grown." Responsible. In charge. Serious.
2. Also: A woman who loves other women, sexually and/or nonsexually. Appreciates and prefers women's culture, women's emotional flexibility (values tears as natural counterbalance of laughter), and women's strength. Sometimes loves individual men, sexually and/or nonsexually. Committed to survival and wholeness of entire people, male and female. Not a separatist, except periodically, for health. Traditionally a universalist, as in: "Mama, why are we brown, pink, and yellow, and our cousins are white, beige and black?" Ans. "Well, you know the colored race is just like a flower garden, with every color flower represented." Traditionally capable, as in: "Mama, I'm walking to Canada and I'm taking you and a bunch of other slaves with me." Reply: "It wouldn't be the first time."
3. Loves music. Loves dance. Loves the moon. Loves the Spirit. Loves love and food and roundness. Loves struggle. Loves the Folk. Loves herself. Regardless.

Mitakuye Oyasin

2010-02-14T13:28:00.000-08:00

Been thinking and feeling out "all my relations" and me.

This is a video posted by one of my teachers this semester.

when we were young: to my sister

2010-02-04T08:18:00.000-08:00

Memories with my Sisters, Unity Bridges

2010-01-25T17:29:00.001-08:00

Fall Retreat 07

Fall Equinox 08

Winter Solstice 08

Summer Solstice 09

Fall Equinox 09

Interesting post on Girl with Pen

2010-01-20T13:17:00.001-08:00

BODY LANGUAGE: When your own body becomes the terrain (by Alison Piepmeier)

Posted: 19 Jan 2010 01:02 PM PST

Over the holidays I had several seizures, which led to me being diagnosed with a brain tumor. It’s a low-grade glioma, which is the good news. It’s smack-dab in the middle of the language center of my brain, which is the bad news.

I tell you this in part to let you know why I might not be around for the next few months. I’ll be having brain surgery in February, and I expect at least six weeks of recovery, time in which I’ll be exhausted and may not be up for blogging. I hope to bring in some fabulous guest bloggers for those weeks.

The other reason I’m sharing this, though, is because having a brain tumor in the language center of my brain has raised a lot of hard questions for me, questions that relate to the theme of this column. I’m an academic, a scholar who writes books and teaches classes. I’m the mother of a young child who is doing great but who needs more help, intervention, and encouragement than a typical child. My Ph.D. is in English. I have been a ravenous reader and passionate writer since I was a little, little kid. Potential damage to the language center of my brain feels like something that threatens the heart of who I am. Who will I be if I don’t have the fluency or facility with language that I have right now? I’ve been poking around in the academic world of disability studies for the last several months, but this diagnosis brings disability even more intimately into my life. It’s not only someone I love who’s experiencing life with a disability (my daughter); it may well be me.

Indeed, no matter what the long-term effects are (and the prognosis actually looks quite good), I certainly will be living with disabilities for the weeks and months immediately following the surgery, as I’ll have brain swelling that will lead to some language difficulties and motor function challenges. I’ll have a kind of insider’s perspective on disability.

Who will I be? It’s an academic question as well as a deeply personal one. I can go around and around in my mind, wondering–imagining what it would be like not to be able to talk off the cuff about feminism with the same ease that I do now, or to hear a sentence and not to be able to understand it immediately. These aren’t effects that the neurosurgeons have promised; in fact, one of the frustrations has been that they can’t tell me much. We’re very much in a wait and see mode. One friend pointed out that this may be a great opportunity for me to learn that who I am is not the same as what I do, but she was quick to add that this life lesson is no justification for a brain tumor.

It’s really weird for me to think about so many characteristics of my life—characteristics which in some way feel transcendent or inherent—as being tied to a physical organ. It gives body language a whole different meaning.
http://girlwpen.com/?p=1807&utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email

indeed

2010-01-18T13:18:00.001-08:00

thanks, ryan.

soldier on

2010-01-11T08:20:00.001-08:00

living in the past.

2010-01-07T11:13:00.000-08:00

woke up this morning in the past after dreaming about a conversation with victor vincent, an old high school friend. We were talking about how we missed Mr. Hemwall, an old high school teacher who died a while back.

Somehow, as traveling down memory lane does perhaps, I was led down the rabbit hole of nostalgia, came across old writings (I used to write a lot), emailed old snippets of correspondences to old friends), contacted old loves, and began to cry.

Here's the first journal I can find (the ones written earlier are missing, but I hope to find them soon -- I may have printed them and they are in my garage) from my first real traveling abroad time -- England.

october 28, 2000 - saturday, oxford, England

dear mom and dad,
isnt wonderful that life is so paradoxical? It struck me this morning when
I read in II Kings of the lepers being white as snow. paradoxes keep me
guessing. It is like a riddle sometimes.
well, I em up and doing these days, doing what I do. Of late, I have
fallen further into movie watching. but, never fear, I do it at night in
exchange for sleep! just kidding.
on thursday when i left off writing you i realised i was too late for bell
ringing class (i guess i had too much fun writing that silly poem). i thus
just walked about oxford for a bit and then returned to st michael's hall
a bit later to catch a bit of news on the telie (i am trying to climb
without the classical world). soon i was in bed reading winnie the pooh so
as to turn my children's books in to the library the next day.
friday i woke early and celebrated morning prayer with the keble chaplain.
i was also able to connect with him about all saints convent for he had
just this past sunday preached there. i then dined at keble hall for
breakfast with friend john. by 9:30 i was studying away in the library
(shelley), at 1 i caught lunch at keble meeting a bio-genetics grad and a
french/german fresher (freshman). i was able to detect that tom, the bio
gen chap, was from northern england!!!!!!!!! i found it quite an
achievment. from thence, jotted back to st. michael's to check out books
on shakespeare and then dashed to eagle and child. i had a splendid
evening working. i discussed medicine with many customers (one a nurse and
one a biochem major). at 7 i "got off" work and returned to st. michael's
for a shower and a movie marathon of sorts....elizabeth (the virgin
queen), an ideal husband (adapted from oscar wilde's play), and primal
fear (which i do recommend. i found the topic, how to detect and blame
guilt or innocence, intriguing). in between i made a stop at the pembroke house where we discussed how so many people are now "night owls" as well as discussed the
bitterness britains feel for now not being a world power. both, i must
admit, were not my topics, but nonetheless i was able to sneak in a couple
depeche mode songs.
today, this morning, i awoke about 10 and tromped about the part of oxford
i had not yet been, down botley road. and i can tell you, tis best i didnt
go for all i found was sad sad industrialization. the kind, which i think
made phillip larkin and auden so bloody bitter (this brings me to a
thought i had when i woke this morning...england aged like bob
dylan.....badly). what, perhaps saved me from insanity was a good walk
through the grandpa's attic section of the Ashmolean museum. i saw some
gloves on Queen elizbeth, some shoes of Princess Anne, signatures of
CHarles I and II, and the death mask Cromwell wore when he was murdered. i
stopped in at the theatre house to buy a ticket for tonight's performance
of "the importance of being earnest" but alas, they were sold out. i then
melted into a seat at the coffee republic with a warm cup of steamed milk
with irish cream syrup. mmm...hmmm. soon the sky began to bless the earth
with its life giving waters in such an extreme way that i was driven
indoors. the blustr'y morning had turned into a wet afternoon. what better way to
celebrate the occasion but then with a movie? "welcome to sarajevo" is a
sad, realistic, well made movie that recalled to my mind the hatred
mankind can bare eachother. therefore, i am now off to "the turf," a pub
where friend blake works. I am hoping to read shelley in an old fashioned
atmosphere. if this fails, i will retreat to blackwells bookstore, to read
in at least a literary atmosphere. perhaps even borders for they may have
live jazz (they had some last night).
forgive me but i have forgotten to mention that live music is about these
days. the other day i walked down cornmarket street (the main strip) and a
folkish/fiddling band called the "huckleberries" was a playing. i thought
of jane-alice, my huckleberry friend. today as i walked down the same
street a jazzy band was playing "summertime and the living is easy..."
mmm,hmmmm, it was wonderful!!!!!!!! life is all about these live music
interludes. i hope your day finds such a joy today.
cris

Christmas songs for this year, part 2

2009-12-23T14:32:00.000-08:00

Winter

2009-12-21T11:03:00.000-08:00

This morning at the farm reminds me of...

Thanks, Mel.

2009-12-18T10:16:00.001-08:00

"Remember this: We be many and they be few. They need us more than we need them. Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing."

look i find some of what you teach suspect....

2009-12-18T09:52:00.000-08:00

"So you never met anyone you wanted?"

2009-12-11T09:00:00.000-08:00

Watch out. I've a new addiction. And, I'm not even (that much) embarrassed.

Christmas songs for this year, part 1

2009-12-07T11:39:00.000-08:00

River

2009-11-25T07:16:00.001-08:00

a sermon

2009-11-24T09:23:00.000-08:00

i "preached" at a friend's church this past sunday. I needed to address John 18:33-37 and speak to my farm life. Now, I'm no biblical scholar, but here's some bits of what I came up with:

In preparing for today, I was particularly struck my Jesus’ response to Pilate's question if he is king: “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."

From the get go, there are a couple of things that the word truth reminds me of. My first thought is usually that earlier passage in John where Jesus says he is the way, truth, and life. It's a verse I memorized in my childhood church (http://www.ghfc.org/).

My second thought is this Thich Nhat Hanh song I like to sing. The second verse goes:

Breathing in, breathing out

I am water reflecting what is real and what is true.

And I feel there is space deep inside of me

I am free.

I only heard of Thay last summer when I stayed at http://www.taize.fr/and then this past Christmas break I spent at http://www.deerparkmonastery.org/.

My third thought is my meditation group. It meets at the http://www.centerfortheworkingpoor.org/ in Echo Park on Tuesday nights at 7. We practice “Centering Prayer” which is a twenty minute time period set aside to focus on a “sacred word” and to let all other distractions go. My sacred word happens to be “true.”

As you might be able to tell, the word “truth” or “true” is complicated for me. The above references to truth have very different contexts. As I paused again to reflect on the readings for today and on how to incorporate in my farm life, I think Ive been able to break it down even a bit further. I came to the conclusion that the meaning of the word truth has changed even more since I’ve become a “farmer.”

Last year I was a CSU, Long Beach English Instructor and Chaplain, and at least in the world of academia, "truth" is something objective and is grounded in tradition. A conversation from an academic point of view meant persuading through rhetoric using Aristotle's Ethos, Pathos, Logos toward a TELOS, or end. This is what I taught in English 100. I used my head mostly and saw life as a ladder to climb from lowly adjunct instructor toward being more "king like" -- the top, the head, tenured professor, leader, etc. My sense was that we are climbing toward truth and helping others to climb as well.

However, now I a "farmer" and truth is so much more physical and embodied. Conversation is about sharing our experiences and coming to an understanding of the truth in each of our lives through relationship. The end goal is the process of understanding. In my farm life world, I use my head so much less and instead, I use my hands, my body, and my heart more now. Life seems much more weblike and is about interconnectedness, empathy, understanding, love. The difference between last year in academia and this year at the farm seem to speak so directly to the reading today -- a movement away from a hierarchical conversation to what I see as a process-relational conversation .

Moreso, Jesus' words reminds me of Laura Riding's Unposted Letters to Catherine. Riding talks about a “muddle” of "doing," and this looks like what Pilate and the people are all about. Riding asserts that we cannot fight the muddle of do-ers by "doing." Instead, we must step outside of the muddle and just be ourselves.

Jesus appears to be just that and refuses to become a part of the oppressive muddle that would call him King or crucified. It's about something more I hear him say.

Running on lawns

2009-11-21T09:54:00.000-08:00

Although I feel rather "off" for liking lawns so much (knowing that sod is such a water waster in our so cal desert), I can't help myself. I particularly like running on them! Both of these are in Santa Barbara.

ghost of autumn past

2009-11-11T19:26:00.000-08:00

Don't wake me; I'm where the wild things are

2009-11-11T19:12:00.000-08:00

Saw Where the Wild Things Are with my dad this past weekend. It was lovely. Stopped by the Camarillo Library to look again at the children's book. It was lovely too.

2009-11-04T16:05:00.000-08:00

Been thinking about Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Thank you, Dan Callis, for introducing me to Annie so long ago in Baja.

The difference between the two ways of seeing is the difference between walking with and without a camera. When I walk with a camera I walk from shot to shot, reading the light on a calibrated meter. When I walk without a camera, my own shutter opens, and the moment’s light prints on my own silver gut. When I see this second way I am above all an unscrupulous observer.

Do I substitute the photographs for the real deal? The virtual relationship for the intimate one? Am I doing it with this blog?

Found a cool blog today . http://tiakramer.blogspot.com/2007/11/contextualized-language.html. with Annie Dillard quotations on random items.

"risking sticking my face in"
Seems appropriate for this post.

Oliver's Travels: Summer and Autumn 2009

2009-10-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

The New Mexico road trip: Wade in the water at the Ranch
Climbing the Secret Mountain
On top of the world
Running through the fields with kitty, donkey, and Chris
Lounging in the hammock
Birthday party with the fam

New home: the Farm

Visiting Papa
Traveling to Santa Barbara dog beach
Romping about Ventura County

Honoring the women in my life

2009-10-30T09:20:00.000-07:00

Today I'm feeling it. Sweat lodge tonight, my moon cycle begins soon -- I'm in that vulnerable and powerful place where I feel things more deeply than normal, where I have the potential of being in tune with the world and with myself. And, this morning, I want to recognize the women who influence my life and the cycle of birth and death. Here's a start:

I held Mel's baby after our Dia De Los Muertos Celebration at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

I wore the earrings of my ancestors.

From Katie who said "I thought you would kind of love this"

2009-10-22T16:50:00.000-07:00

The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

Katie and I've had some lovely times together. These pictures come from a glorious day!

Getting ahead of myself

2009-10-16T00:34:00.000-07:00

I'm going to miss you, Papa.

Peeps' thoughts on porn

2009-10-07T22:31:00.002-07:00

What is with the incredible pull of pornography? What's with it, I think, is the human ache to know and be known and the simultaneous terror of knowing and being known. We want the wonder, the joy, the piercing grief even, of knowing another person to the depths of her being; we want someone to seek out those depths in us. This is arousal, this is desire. It is love. It is what we most want.

It is also what we most fear. Pornography keeps the viewer safe, because it keeps the viewer anonymous and unknown. The problem is that being unknown is precisely what the viewer, ultimately, doesn't want. This pull between what the viewer feels that he desires, and then arriving at what he really doesn't desire, is what keeps the viewer temporarily satiated, and it's what keeps the viewer coming back. Hence: addiction. It evokes some kind of desire, and seems to meet the desire. The craving to be known and loved--and to know and love--is so powerful and pervasive. But the problem is obvious. The porn addict is like a starving man who does not know he is starving. He eats dirt, handful after handful, but he still feels so hungry. Instead of finding nourishing food to eat, he keeps eating more dirt, convinced that if he just eats more the gnawing hunger will subside.....

But pornography is an extreme (though a very common extreme) and it is a distortion. What about simple and ordinary desire? What about how sexuality is part of who we are all the time, what about how most relationships include some element of sexuality? Desire, intimacy, being known, loving.....what the heck are we supposed to do about these things?

...perhaps only when we can acknowledge to ourselves that we loathe and fear sex, and that we crave and love sex, that our desires are many and extraordinary (and utterly ordinary)--only when we are completely honest with ourselves--will we find ourselves. And we will find ourselves known, undressed, loved, desired, encompassed, taken, whole.
-Tamie http://owlrainfeathers.blogspot.com/2008/08/eros.html

People

2009-10-07T22:31:00.001-07:00

A week of merriment!

2009-10-01T08:05:00.000-07:00

catching the sunset
...with oliver
extreme bowling

80s house party
beach afternoon

A visit from a friend

2009-09-24T09:55:00.000-07:00

Denise is visiting from Suiza! We've been having a ball out here on the farm. She came with me to capoeira yesterday after we spent the morning in Santa Barbara. We first visited the labyrinth, then stopped to eat Our Daily Bread, walked about the museum, ate at El Bahio, and drove home with the music loud. We sing together mucho, and one such song is:

Autumn is near!

2009-09-16T20:06:00.000-07:00

The coming of autumn is so delicate in Southern California, but it's beautiful. It's a chill in the bones, the smell of a burning fire, the need to wear a sweater, and remembrances of good old friends.

It's a blessed discontentment to me, a longing for things of old to be happening all the time.

"You called me beautiful when you saw my shame. "

2009-09-10T12:43:00.001-07:00

Finished a Midrash the other day. Here are my favorite parts:

My dear daughter…

And already I would see tears in her eyes.

My dear daughter, how can I describe the love in which I made you.
I started by giving you part of my heart.

I would touch Her heart and then I would touch my heart. She would nod.

Yes. And, then I took the precious earth in my hands, and I molded your body, your cells, your skin. You were the earth.

“And you kissed them?” I would ask.

Of course. And, then I placed the rain water—mixed with a little molten lava— in your veins, and you became water and fire.

And then, I asked the wind to give you breath, and you were wind.

Last, I whispered your name.

“But, how is this possible, Mother? How can I be all these things and still me?”

Because we are everything and we are unique. We are in constant relationship with each other.

And, they ate of each other
And of the fruit of the land,
And they were good.

Female and Male (S)he was good.